You Can't Always Get What You Want
by slackerD
Summary: 1955 AU Rachel wants everything. Quinn wants reality.


**Title:** You Can't Always Get What You Want  
><strong>Author:<strong> slacker_d  
><strong>PairingCharacters:** Rachel/Quinn, minor Puck/Finn, sort of Puck/Rachel  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Summary:<strong> 1955 AU Rachel wants everything. Quinn wants reality.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not mine.  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 8,100+  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> None

1955

It's another hot July day in New York City. Quinn Fabray has all four of her windows open and it's creating a nice sort of breeze, but it's really not enough to feel comfortable. She's dressed in men's pajama shorts and her bra. She supposes she could go around naked, but then the windows would probably have to be closed, or at least the blinds. Plus there's the topic of impromptu visitors; she doesn't have enough mobility to don something quickly.

The heat is another excuse not to do anything. Normally, she'd be in her studio painting; not even aware of the heat, the creativity being enough of a distraction. But unable to do so, she's stuck and left to sweat.

**…**

Quinn is a painter. Though a rather sedentary activity, the blonde still managed to break her left leg while doing it.

She's been working on a massive canvas. It nearly covered one wall of her living room. Therefore, she needed chairs and ladders to reach every corner. However, moving a chair every time became more and more annoying as time went on. And so one day when she was very much into her creativity and unwilling to step down and move the chair, she leant a little too far to the left and slipped, crashing to the ground and apparently breaking her leg.

Rachel was the one to find her. Once the brunette was sure she was okay, she yelled at Quinn for ten minutes for her recklessness _and_then called for help.

**…**

Melanie is a nurse and the younger sister of one of Quinn's regular clients. When Caroline heard she'd broken her leg, the housewife persuaded Melanie to stop by occasionally and check on Quinn. The blond still hasn't figured out how Caroline was able to convince her, but Melanie is friendly and professional, so Quinn left it alone.

Besides, it's nice to be able to talk to someone and know there will never be any sort of romantic drama between them. Quinn assumes it's because of this that she's let Melanie into the details of her life in a way she never has before.

"Your last week," Melanie says. "Excited?"

"Ecstatic," Quinn replies. "If I have to have a cast ever again, I hope it's not during the height of summer."

"Winter wouldn't be much better," Melanie points out. "Any big plans?"

"Rachel's supposed to stop by."

"Try not to sound too excited."

"It's just…she sees the broken leg as a reason to discuss the future more."

"So? What's wrong with that? You've been together for how many years? I wouldn't be so patient if I was her. She must really love you."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" Melanie questions.

"She wants to move in together and stop the pretense of dating Puckerman."

"Good."

"Not good," Quinn counters. "Do you know what her grandmother would do if that happened?" Quinn doesn't wait for a response. "Rachel would be disowned and discarded. She'd go from being the belle of the ball to the joke people make during small talk. I don't want her to go through that."

"Maybe she thinks you're worth it."

"Well, I'm not so sure," Quinn replies. "She could have a good life with Puckerman. I'd even be okay just being something on the side because I'm not sure I could completely live without her."

"I'm starting to worry that the fall damaged your brain, not just your leg. If a girl like Rachel Berry wants to move in with you, there should be no debating. The only question you need to ask yourself, is when. She's ready to give up everything to be with you."

"I don't want her to give up _anything_," Quinn says. "I want her to have everything. She deserves it."

"Everything, except you."

"She has me."

"Not in the way she wants," Melanie counters.

Quinn sighs in agreement. "Rachel wants things too much; things that might not necessarily happen. Maybe I've waited this long in hopes she would realize it."

"You two need to talk, really talk."

"That's all we ever do, it seems," Quinn tells her.

"Well, then maybe you need to really _listen_to each other; instead of just arguing your point. Perhaps a compromise could be made."

Quinn sighs again. There can be no real compromise since there are only two options. Do what Rachel wants or keep doing what they're doing.

"Still," Melanie continues. "Maybe if you both sat down and really listened to each other, some other alternative might be thought of."

"I don't want to talk about it," Quinn tells her. "It seems like all I do is talk or think about it. Just give me a moment's peace."

"Quinn," Melanie says. "I'm just trying to help."

"I don't want to talk about it," Quinn says, louder, more firmly this time.

**…**

Quinn is mainly a portrait artist. At least that's how she earns her income. In the beginning, it was just a way to earn money while she worked on her own things.

But then one day she met Anna Livingston. At the age of 40, she was almost twice Quinn's age. She paid a lot of money for several paintings and then seduced the young painter.

And so began Quinn's career of sleeping with her clients. It usually wasn't more than a few times each. Anna was the longest, the affair lasting almost two years. It was on and off throughout, though. However, during, Anna introduced Quinn to a lot of wealthy women. It wasn't long before Quinn had gained a reputation among the gossips of the city. But being disowned by her parents at seventeen for her sexual orientation and her lack of perfection, Quinn was used to such things and ignored them.

And one night, a few years after their affair had ended, Anna dragged Quinn out to the club, Hijinks for a little fun.

"How long has it been since you've been out of your apartment?"

"I bought cigarettes earlier today," Quinn replies triumphantly.

"So you walked down three flights of stairs and then half a block to the corner?" Anna scoffs. "That doesn't count."

Except Quinn wasn't having fun. She'd been in the middle of painting and her mind was still there.

Until she saw her; a diminutive brunette with a beautiful smile and amazing body.

Sitting a few tables over with a tall man with a odd looking haircut. It was obvious in their interaction that there was real affection between them.

"Who's that?" Quinn asked Anna.

Seeing Quinn's target, Anna let out a little chuckle. "That, my dear, is Rachel Berry and Noah Puckerman. Her family is only the wealthiest around, very old money. His family is probably the third. They've been together for years and no one knows why they haven't tied the knot yet. Though I've heard some rumors."

"Oh?"

"Oh yes. Their parents have pushed them together since they could walk. As two of the most prominent Jewish families in the city, it's expected. But some say that both are more comfortable with companions of the same gender."

That's all Quinn needed to hear. She was quickly over at Rachel's table, flirting. In her mind, the rumors were confirmed when Rachel responded positively and Puckerman only seemed amused; otherwise, he should have been possessive.

Quinn managed to get a date for the next evening and that was all it took. She was quickly infatuated and it easily became love.

Rachel seemed a bit more reluctant about the relationship. Quinn always assumed it was because she was a woman, but after a year of dating she learns otherwise.

Rachel was particularly sensitive about Quinn sleeping with her clients, despite Quinn's assurances that it wasn't an issue. Despite her reputation, Quinn is a one woman sort of gal.

Besides, Rachel is constantly on the arm of Noah whenever the couple goes out. They are the most watched and talked about young couple on the Upper East Side.

At first Rachel tells her it's necessary and Quinn agrees, internally, especially the more she learns about Rachel's family. But as months become years, Rachel then tells Quinn that if she has a problem with it, she should make an honest woman out of her.

The first time, Quinn scoffed loudly and rudely and was therefore treated to a full on Rachel Berry storm out. Quinn realizes that all the times that Rachel had left angry before were minor in comparison, especially since Rachel didn't return for five days.

Though she's eternally grateful, there are some days that Quinn is surprised that Rachel is still around. Not because Quinn doubts Rachel's feelings; more so that Rachel Berry is not one to be left waiting.

But there are also days that Quinn wishes Rachel _would_leave her. Then she wouldn't feel so guilty about not taking the next step, as the brunette puts it. She can't have Rachel give up everything. Sure, she says it doesn't matter. And it might now. But it will eventually.

**…**

Quinn spends most of her days just people watching. Her apartment looks out into a courtyard. The artist in her enjoys the view. She'd try to imagine how she'd paint various scenes; what colors she would use, what material. Since it's more of a mental practice, she finds it far less frustrating than sketching. With sketching, she always has an urge to see the drawing fully realized.

It's what she finds the most frustrating about her broken leg, aside from being unable to scratch an itch just above her knee, is that she can't paint. She tried the 10th day, ignoring medical advice. She was feeling pretty good on pain pills. It didn't end well. She ruined an expensive canvas, spilled red paint everywhere and ended up on the floor, unable to get up. And she was sitting in red paint.

Luckily Rachel came over only 2 hours later and was able to help Quinn up.

She then received a 40 minute lecture about the consequences of not following Doctor's orders.

Quinn's thankful that she still has enough mobility to still go to the bathroom alone. It takes forever, but she can do it. Besides, it's not like she has a set schedule at the moment.

**…**

Quinn wakes up from her nap feeling someone's gaze on her. She lets her eyes slide open and standing before her looking radiant as always is Rachel Berry.

She smiles. "Evening gorgeous," she greets. "You are a perfect vision to wake up to."

"Charming as always." Rachel leans in for a kiss.

Quinn tries to pull her closer to prolong it, but Rachel slaps her lightly on the arm.

"None of that. At least not in your wheelchair, remember?" Rachel chastises. "We can't have a repeat of before."

Quinn smiles. "You mean you can't."

"Why is it your goal to constantly embarrass me?"

"Because you're so cute when you blush."

Blushing slightly, Rachel ducks her head slightly. "How was your day?"

"The same that it's been for the last seven weeks."

"Well, I thought we'd celebrate the start of your last week in a cast," Rachel replies.

"Oh? What did you have in mind?" Quinn leers.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," Rachel tells her. "That's for later. I was thinking of dinner from Sarfati."

"That sounds wonderful," Quinn replies. "But how do you propose we get there? Magic carpet? Plus I'm not really dressed properly."

"Well you know what they say. If you can't bring Mohamed to the mountain, bring the mountain to Mohamed." She strolls to the front door and opens it. There stands a young man in a tux, holding several food containers.

"Evening," he says.

"Good evening, Joseph," Rachel replies, ushering him in. "If you could just set it up in the kitchen." She points it out as he enters.

He nods. Rachel follows him in and returns with two wine glasses, a corkscrew and a bottle. She sets it on the table next to Quinn. Joseph appears a moment later and Rachel walks him to the door. Grabbing her purse, she pulls out some cash and hands it to him.

"That should cover the cab as well. Thank you very much, Joseph."

"Anything for you, Ms. Berry. Have a nice evening."

"You as well," Rachel replies, closing the door.

"What do you think you're doing?" Quinn demands. "You're bringing random wait staff over here? What is he going to think?"

"Whatever people already think," Rachel tells her. "There are already plenty of whispered rumors about us. Besides, Joseph is a bit bent himself, so I don't see what you're so worried about."

"Just because he has a secret too, doesn't mean he'll keep ours," Quinn snaps. "Why are you so dead set on throwing our relationship in their faces?"

"I'm not throwing it in their faces," Rachel replies. "I'm having dinner with my girlfriend, who happens to have a broken leg and can't go anywhere."

"I just don't see how you can be so trusting."

"Joseph is a friend."

"A friend who you just handed a large amount of cash to? He's an employee."

Rachel sighs. "Why must you be so hung up on the so called caste system?" She begins opening the wine.

"Because it rules our lives."

"Maybe yours. However, I believe the only way to grow out of it is to move past this atrocious system is to break free of it and be an example of what could be instead of cowering behind what is."

"Your idealism is refreshing and naive as usual," Quinn tells her.

Rachel sighs again and pours them each a glass of wine.

"But we're off topic," Quinn says. "How was your day?"

"Busy as usual," Rachel replies, as she goes into the kitchen to get dinner ready. "Why can't things ever run smoothly? I realize, it's my job to handle the crises that arise, but just once I'd like to have weekend where nothing goes wrong."

"What happened?"

"Apparently Breadsticks ran out of red wine last night and no one bothered to order more. I had to fire the manager, Jimmy. This is the third time this has happened," Rachel tells her. "And I booked a small jazz ensemble to play at Sylvester's, but they didn't show. Luckily, I have Terrance Morris on standby to play piano. Thankfully, he was able to play last night."

Rachel is in charge of the three restaurants and two clubs that her family own: Breadsticks, Howard's, 21, Sylvester's Lounge, and Adrenaline.

"And so I spent most of today looking for a new manager and more reliable entertainment. I realize things come up, but they didn't even call or anything."

"Definitely not professional."

Rachel brings out two plates and they settle in, as they have almost every night. They eat and chat and occasionally Rachel will try to feed Quinn; which will result in the blonde refusing and ending up with food somewhere it's not supposed to be.

"Why can't you just open your mouth?"

"Why are you trying to feed me? I'm not a child."

"It's romantic."

But mostly they eat and enjoy each other's company.

Unfortunately, Rachel can't leave the silence alone.

"You know, I saw a loft downtown for sale, today," Rachel informs Quinn. "I bet it has great open spaces. It would be the perfect place for you to work."

"I already have a perfect place to work."

"I realize that," Rachel replies. "But it's a bit cramped for two people, don't you think?"

"Well, then it's a good thing only one person lives here," Quinn says without thinking.

An awkward silence falls over them.

"Rachel," Quinn tries. But she doesn't know what to say.

The brunette sighs. "It's fine."

"We've talked about this."

"We have," Rachel agrees

"And there's no way I'm letting you ruin your life to move into this crappy little apartment."

"Only _you_see it as ruining my life," Rachel tells her. "I see it as being with the woman I love."

"Just listen to me, please. You and I both know that not only would your grandmother disown you, but she'd devastate your reputation. You'd be out of work, because there's no way she'd have you keep running things. Your friends would shun you and you would be a complete and utter outcast."

"So?" Rachel replies. "My so called friends only like me because we have the same background. And while I enjoy what I do, it isn't necessary."

"Rachel."

"And while I realize I've never known what it's like to not have money, I'm willing to learn. I think you're worth it. No, I _know_you're worth it."

Quinn actually feels her heart clench at that statement. Rachel always seems to know what to say.

"But what if I don't want you to have to find out?"

Rachel doesn't answer, just grabs both their plates and walks into the kitchen. She places them in the sink and stalks out.

"Listen, Quinn Fabray, I love you. I don't care about my family money or reputation; I just want to be with you. But if you can't see that, then I'm not going to sit around here and listen to your pessimism." She spins on her heel and stomps towards the door.

"Rachel," Quinn calls out.

She stops at the door and grabs her purse. "No, Quinn. You don't want to talk about it, fine. Then I don't want to be here."

"Are you coming back?" Quinn asks.

"No. I'm not." Rachel goes to the door and opens it. "At least, not until tomorrow night." And she stomps out.

**…**

Having no one else to turn to, Rachel finds herself outside Noah's apartment. She knocks as she wipes the tears forming in her eyes.

The door opens to reveal Noah Puckerman dressed casually and looking annoyed. As soon as he realizes who it is though, his expression changes.

"It's still pretty early," he says. "Bad night?"

Rachel doesn't say anything, just wraps her arms around him.

Noah returns the hug, growling. "What'd she say now?"

"Nothing new," Rachel replies. "It just hit me a bit harder tonight."

Noah doesn't reply, just leads her inside his apartment.

Inside she finds Finn on the couch, two glasses of wine on the coffee table.

"Oh, I didn't realize…" Rachel says. "I can go."

"Don't be ridiculous, Rach," Finn says. "You're crying."

"You know Hudson's a softie about crying females," Noah adds.

Rachel sits on the couch and Finn wraps an arm around her; a moment later Noah is next to her.

"I got you some wine," he says, his arm going around her as well.

After a few minutes of quiet that Rachel sniffles through, Noah asks, "You want to talk about it?"

"Why?" Rachel asks. "It's nothing new. Same argument, different day. I'm simply tired of it is all."

"Why don't you just go along with it? I mean, it's not such a bad plan," Finn says.

Incredulous, Rachel stares at him. "You do realize what you're suggesting, don't you?" Rachel turns to Noah. "Why do our significant others want us to get married to each other?"

Noah shrugs. "It kind of makes sense. And it would get everyone off our backs."

"Just because something's easy, doesn't make it right."

"And just because you don't agree with something, doesn't make it wrong," Noah counters.

"No offense, Noah," Rachel replies. "But I don't want to be your wife."

"There are worse things," Finn offers.

"Then you marry him," Rachel snaps.

"No fighting," Noah intervenes. "It doesn't solve anything."

They return to the silence, but Rachel doesn't let it last.

"I'm sorry to barge in on your date like this."

"It's fine Rachel," Noah assures her. "Can't have my beard crying all the time. People'll think I'm a bad boyfriend."

"Which you definitely are not," Finn says.

"Can I stay just a little bit longer?" Rachel asks, tearful.

"Of course," Finn assures her.

"It's just, no one else knows."

"We understand, Rach," Noah tells her.

They stay curled up on the couch, Finn and Noah quietly talking while Rachel soaks up their warmth, tears drying on her cheeks.

She must fall asleep because the next thing she knows is sunlight in her eyes and the smell of coffee.

"Morning sleepyhead," Finn says, setting a coffee cup on the coffee table. "Noah said to wake you since you always get up too early."

"What time is it?"

"Seven."

"Yes, I should get home."

"What does your grandmother think about you staying out all night?"

"She assumes I'm with Noah. So she's fine with it," Rachel replies.

"Doesn't she listen to rumors?"

"Denial is a powerful thing," Rachel tells him.

**…**

Meeting Quinn changed Rachel's life. Though she'd only been 22 at the time, she'd been beginning to doubt that she'd ever fall in love. She'd resigned herself to a loveless marriage with Noah, who was her best friend, but it wasn't the same.

They'd spent their teenage years resisting because their parents had been pushing them together since they were toddlers. All it did was make them best friends. Some days, Rachel's wonders what the odds were that both she and Noah turned out to be homosexuals.

Her grandmother would be appalled if she realized. Rachel's childhood is filled with memories of Mrs. Berry's cutting comments and harsh life lessons. After Rachel's mother died in a car accident, her father's mother felt completely justified in interfering in their lives. And her father, overwhelmed with the entire situation, let it happen.

Rachel sometimes wonders if her mother hadn't died, how different her grandmother's grip would be on her life. Would the woman still hold money and duty over Rachel's head or would things be a bit more relaxed? Would it still be so important to continue the family line that Rachel would still feel stifled and oppressed?

**…**

Quinn doesn't sleep well. It could be because she's still in the wheelchair verses sleeping in bed, like a normal person. Or it could be the bottle of wine she polished off by herself. It certainly isn't the fight she had with Rachel; though they have them more than she's comfortable with. Quinn feels immensely guilty that she makes her girlfriend cry at least once a month. Though if Rachel would just stop _pushing_, then they wouldn't fight. If she would just marry Puckerman, everything would be fine. It wouldn't be perfect, but what in life is?

The problem with Rachel is that the thing that drew Quinn to the brunette, her need to be honest and up front with people, is also what's causing issues between them. In the beginning, Quinn found it refreshing after all the lies and sneaking around she'd been doing for the last five years. And even if they too were lying and sneaking around, it was different. The bored housewives were lying about everything, to themselves, their family and friends. What she and Rachel have is real and worth protecting; not because of reputations, but from fear of loss.

Rachel doesn't want to lie and she tries not to, to herself at least. The lies Rachel tells are necessary. Basically, Rachel lies just as much as she has to, even if she doesn't like it. The blonde knows she only does because Quinn asked. Otherwise there's no way Rachel Berry would ever hide.

If she could just make her understand. Rachel, despite being knocked down again and again, still sees the positive before the negative. It's both enduring and frustrating.

But Quinn knows; she's experienced it. Kicked out and disowned by her parents at 17, the blonde knows what admitting everything can result in and she doesn't want that for Rachel. Especially since what they have_is_working.

Her day passes uneasily and unproductively. She mostly spends it in her wheelchair, staring out her windows, not really seeing anything. She's mostly hiding in her head, not wanting to ponder the situation she finds herself in.

It's not the first time Rachel's stormed out and it most likely won't be the last, but just like every time before, it leaves Quinn feeling abandoned and wounded. The blonde blames being kicked out by her parents.

Rachel is _the_one. Quinn knows it. She wishes she could just grab Rachel's hand and never let go, but her apprehension of the overall picture is just too much. Her parents taught her that appearance is everything and no matter how hard she tries to move past it, she's never been able to. Not even for Rachel.

It's a long, pensive day and Quinn is glad when she notices the sun dipping lower and lower. She's one day closer to getting her cast off. Maybe if she was more mobile, she wouldn't feel so freaking helpless and pathetic all the time.

So even though they're fighting, Rachel shows up for dinner that evening. She smiles and greets the blonde with a kiss before heading into the kitchen. They don't talk about it; just as they haven't every time before. Still Quinn finds comfort in the fact that Rachel always come back after a fight. She shudders to think what will happen one day when the brunette doesn't return.

**…**

The rest of the week progresses smoothly between Rachel and Quinn. Per usual after a big disagreement, both women avoid any of the usual arguing points. They have dinner every night, though nothing as elaborate as Monday. They discuss Rachel's day and ideas Quinn's had for paintings. Rachel doesn't know why, but their argument seems to be a huge pink elephant in the room. It always is, has been for over five years now, but lately the elephant seems to be getting bigger and bigger.

Still they manage to avoid any sort of confrontation until Sunday evening.

Rachel's spent the day with her grandmother and father, socializing; afternoon teas and such. As she does most Sundays and normally it wouldn't be an issue. Rachel's spent far too many Sundays in her grandmother's presence, even as an adult.

But today she can't handle it. However, no dissent of any kind can be shown or she will be berated for a month or so about how ungrateful she is and how her grandmother helped raise her when her mother died.

Which isn't exactly true. Yes, she was around, but she was mostly critical and belittling. To this day, Rachel still doesn't understand how her father could be so nice and loving and supportive while his mother is such a cruel, judgmental woman.

So when Rachel shows up at Quinn's apartment later, she's feeling worn out and maybe the years of waiting have finally gotten to her. Either way, when Quinn brings up plans for several months down the line, Rachel explodes.

"I need to know if we have a future," Rachel tells Quinn.

"Of course we have a future," Quinn assures her. "We belong together."

"Just as long as no one knows."

"Exactly," Quinn says, missing Rachel's sarcasm. "Besides Puckerman and his boy toy know."

"It's not the same," Rachel replies. "I want the world to know that I love the most amazing painter in the city."

"So what?" Quinn asks. "You just want to brag?"

"Partly. But mostly I want us to be together."

"We are together."

"You know what I mean," Rachel snaps.

"I do," Quinn agrees. "And I just don't understand why. If you would just marry Puckerman, everything would be fine. You don't become fodder for the gossip mill and your grandmother will finally get off your back."

"Because those are the two things that matter most," Rachel replies. "Your devotion and concern over the caste system we find ourselves in, is preposterous. It's out dated and pathetic; it doesn't deserve our respect."

"It's the way things are," Quinn protests.

"Your adherence to the status quo is disgusting."

"And your totally disregard for it is naïve," Quinn tells her.

They glare at each other, each daring the other. Rachel, once again, breaks it.

"I'm beginning to doubt the depth of your feelings for me, Quinn."

Quinn is aghast. "How can you say such a thing?"

"We could be together," Rachel tells her. "We wouldn't have to stay in this stupid city. We could go somewhere else."

"What? No."

"I know you don't want to leave your little harem of bored housewives, but I'm sure you could accumulate a new one in whatever city we move to."

"How many times do I have to tell you? I don't cheat. I've been faithful this entire time."

"Why?" Rachel asks. "It's not as if you're committed to me. What does it matter if you stray?"

"Are you telling me to sleep with other women?"

"I'm just trying to understand your hesitation. I refuse to believe the _sole_reason is me getting disowned."

"Well, speaking as someone who has been kicked out of a family," Quinn replies. "I just thought I'd try and spare you that pain and humiliation."

"But it'll be my choice," Rachel argues. "It will be different."

"You always think you're different, Rachel, always. But sometimes you're not. Sometimes things affect you the same way they affect us all."

"I know that. I simply meant that my feelings about it will be different than yours because I had some control over the situation," Rachel replies. "You think I want to leave? Never see my father again? Of course not. But I don't know what else to offer you."

"Offer me?"

"Maybe I'm just being obtuse," Rachel continues. "Perhaps this is your subtle way of pushing me away and I'm just not letting myself acknowledge it."

"How am I pushing you away?" Quinn demands. "I've already told you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"As long as I marry Noah," Rachel huffs.

"Damnit, Rachel. Why do you have to be so stubborn? Why are you fighting this? Things won't change; they don't need to change. It's just a stupid piece of paper. We'll still be us. And then all the pressure will drop away."

"Fine," Rachel snaps. "You want me to marry Noah Puckerman and pretend to be a perfect married couple, I will. But you and I? We're done. Ten years is my limit." Rachel storms out, slamming the door behind her.

**…**

Noah is halfway through _Lolita_when there's a pounding on his front door. He knows without even thinking about it that it's Rachel, so he stands and causally walks to the door. The pounding becomes more incessant, so he takes his time opening it. When he does, Noah is greeted by an agitated and irritated Rachel Berry.

"Yes, can I help you?" he asks, wryly.

"Evening, Noah," Rachel greets. "Is Finn here?"

"No, it's just me," Noah replies. "Why?"

"We're getting married."

"We are?"

"We are."

Noah stares at her for a moment, trying to understand. After a full minute of silence he shrugs. "Okay. You better come in then."

**…**

Once the brunette explains what happened, Noah plants her on the couch and hands her a drink. He sits next to her with an even fuller glass.

Rachel sighs into her drink. "She doesn't love me."

"She does love you, Rach," Noah assures her. "You know she does. She just has… issues."

"There's an understatement if I ever heard one."

"Give her time."

"Time? It's been ten years," Rachel replies. "Everyone else is married and on the way to their second child."

"You don't want children," Noah points out.

"That's not the point," Rachel snarls. "Grandmother is putting more and more pressure on me. Every conversation we have is about marriage or a husband. Is it wrong to wish she'd have a stroke, so she'd leave me alone?"

"Yes.

"Thanks for the support."

"It's honest, Rach," Noah replies. "Besides, at least you have your father's support. I have both my folks pressing me to ask you. I would ask just to get them off my back. If I thought you'd say yes."

"Noah, it's not that I don't…it's just I hate lying, you know that."

"I do." He takes her hand in his. "Unfortunately, it's all we can do."

"It's not, Noah. Honesty can't be all that bad. Living a lie—"

"Is what we've been doing for years now. And it's worked just fine. Why rock the boat?"

"So what?" Rachel snaps. "We get married and you have Finn on the side and I have Quinn? We hide in the shadows, ashamed of who we are and who we love?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because. That's how it is."

"I wish you'd all stop saying that," Rachel whines.

"You're the one that came here demanding marriage," Noah points out. "I assumed you were finally okay with it."

"Okay with it? Never," Rachel replies. "But resigned to it? Apparently."

"That's a start, I suppose."

"But I don't have Quinn anymore."

"Of course you do."

"No," Rachel says. "I ended it. And I meant it."

"So why marry me?"

Rachel plays with her now empty glass and doesn't meet Noah's eye. He waits patiently. Finally she looks up at him and says, "What else can I do?"

"Aw, Rach," Noah starts, wrapping his arm around her.

"If I can't be with Quinn, I'd at least like to be with my best friend."

Noah pulls her closer and Rachel lets her head drop on his shoulder.

"It'll be okay, Rachel, I promise," he says finally. "Things have a way of working out."

**…**

The engagement ring has apparently been in the Puckerman family for generations. Noah shares this with a wry laugh, but Rachel fails to see the humor. It feels heavy on her finger, an anchor holding her down.

Her grandmother is ecstatic that the engagement is finally a reality. However, she's disappointed when Rachel informs her that they're getting married by the Justice of the Peace with only immediate family present.

There's a great deal of guilt and anger thrown around until Rachel informs her that it's that or nothing. This shuts the matriarch up promptly and Rachel gets her way. However the only reason she relents is that the brunette agrees to a lavish reception that "will be the social event of the season" organized by her grandmother. Despite her misgivings, Rachel feels this is a fair trade. The engagement announcement goes out and there's no turning back.

**…**

"You know if I wasn't such a stud," Noah tells her as Rachel stares at the engagement picture in the paper. "I'd get a complex about your reluctance to marry me."

"Quiet, Noah," Rachel replies. "Knowing the reason behind my hesitation should keep your ego in check."

"We still get to consummate the marriage, right?" he asks, a lecherous grin spreading across his face.

"Please," Rachel says, elbowing him. "As if you have any real interest in such a thing."

"Well, you know me," he answers. "I like to be the first to do everything."

"Well, once we're married, you can look into visiting the moon or something."

"At least the picture turned out," Noah comments. "We are one fine looking pair of Jews."

"Yes, heaven forbid you marry someone ugly," Rachel replies.

"It's not that I'm shallow—"

"Except that you are," Rachel tells him.

**…**

Because of the engagement, they spend almost every evening out. Everyone wants to take them out to celebrate. They drink more champagne in two weeks than Rachel wants to drink in an entire lifetime.

There are lots of jokes about how it's about time and what was the hold up. She and Noah make jokes as well, brushing it off.

Rachel wants to get married immediately, but her grandmother wants time to plan the reception. So they agree on having it in a month's time. Rachel lets her grandmother plan the whole reception. The brunette is so relieved to not have a massive formal ceremony that she doesn't care about the reception. Both she and Noah are simply along for the ride.

**…**

The wedding is small and intimate. Rachel can almost pretend it's a marriage born out of love, not convenience and familial pushing.

The reception on the other hand is grandiose and almost communal. Rachel's pretty sure she's never even_met_this many people in her life. But the couple know it's less about sharing a special day with friends and more about what this marriage does for their families' social standings. Both agree it makes them feel cheap and used, but it's far too late to change their minds now. Instead, they smile, shake hands and accept hugs with congratulations. It's a dance they've been doing for too long now that they can easily fall into it with little effort.

The entire evening continues along those lines. They sit through toasts and eat ridiculously overpriced chicken. They do the traditional first dance together and then dance with their respective parents.

Things loosen up slightly once all the formality is over. Rachel has some wine, dances with friends and family and things don't seem so bad. Being newlyweds, they leave earlier than most and head home. They're not leaving on their honeymoon until the next day, so they both somberly stumble into their apartment.

"So we're married," Noah says.

"Yes," Rachel agrees. "We are."

For the first time in their friendship, Rachel feels awkward. Looking at Noah, she can see he feels the same way. She hopes it's just a momentary occurrence brought on by the unique situation they find themselves in.

"Well, good night," he says, finally.

"Good night."

They embrace and Rachel is able to lose herself in the hug. She just married her best friend. Everything will be okay. But then they pull apart and once again they're two people in very formal attire.

Each goes to their own room, shutting the door behind them. Rachel gets undressed slowly, trying to shake the feeling of melancholy that's over taken her. She resorts to singing and that seems to help a bit. She tries to avoid looking at her left hand that's now adorned with a gold wedding band.

Finally Rachel crawls into her lonely bed and cries herself to sleep.

**…**

Not completely believing Rachel about her marrying Puckerman, Quinn, nonetheless watches the paper religiously. On the seventh day she receives the painful confirmation. She sees the picture and just stares at the two smiling faces. Even though she knows better, she finds it hard to believe that these two aren't in love with each other. She's struck with real regret.

Especially since Rachel hasn't stopped by yet. Normally, it never takes the brunette more than five days to get over one of their fights. However, it's been a week and Quinn realizes how serious Rachel was this time; because she is, if nothing else, consistent. And in their ten year relationship, Rachel's always returned in no less than five days. Always. Quinn knows there's still a chance the brunette will be back. But every day that passes, lessens the chances of that happening.

So after another week, she decides to move on. Quinn's cast is off and she's back to painting. She spends the first week working on ideas she'd had while in the cast. It had been almost a religious experience to be able to paint again. Two months was too long. It's probably why she's been so testy.

Still, the painting can only distract Quinn for so long. She's spent so many evening with Rachel that the loneliness always hits around dinner time.

She starts going out in the evenings as a diversion. She avoids all the places Rachel runs or frequents. Not that they ever ran in the same social circles. But Quinn easily manages to find…distractions.

It works for a while. Until Rachel and Puckerman's wedding. From the engagement announcement, she knows it's a private ceremony. But the next day, there are all sorts of gossip about the reception. She tortures herself by looking at pictures of the happy couple and once again is stuck by how much in love they look. She's jealous, even though she knows she shouldn't be. She spends several days alone in her apartment, working on a dark, depressing canvas. Once it's finished, she puts it in the back of her front closet and goes back to her female distractions.

Unfortunately, this only lasts another month or so before Quinn forces herself to admit she misses Rachel and _needs_her back.

She knows it's not going to be easy, but Quinn is determined. She starts small, sending flowers. When those didn't receive a response, she sends poems. Some she wrote herself, most she quotes. Still no response. Quinn then begins sending sketches. Drawing Rachel from memory is all Quinn can seem to do in the evening, so it isn't too long before she has dozens. She sends her sketches with her attempts at verse and hopes. When that doesn't work, she finds herself low on options. The flowers already set her back a pretty penny. The two months without working ate up most of her savings.

So in an act of desperation, Quinn goes to Rachel's apartment.

She's greeted by Hudson of all people. Apparently Rachel's out, but Quinn's welcome to wait. So she sits in the kitchen, drinking water and waiting.

When the front door creaks open and slams shut, Quinn knows this is it. She sits up a little straighter and prepares for the confrontation.

Humming lightly to herself, Rachel doesn't notice Quinn right away. It's only after setting the bottle of wine on the counter that Rachel looks at her.

"What are you doing here?" she growls.

"Waiting to talk to you."

"Well, I don't want to talk to you," Rachel shoots back. "So you can leave now."

"Rachel, please," Quinn tries. "It's been three months. You've made your point."

This isn't the correct argument to make. It only earns her a larger scowl.

"And I miss you. Nothing's the same without you in my life. I need you. Please."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Rachel replies. "But I've moved on."

"You're seeing someone?" Quinn gasps.

"It's no longer your concern, Quinn," Rachel tells her. "Please leave."

"Have you gotten _any_of my gifts?" Quinn asks.

"Yes. They're lovely, but unnecessary."

"Look," Quinn says. "I know you're still angry. You're tenacious like that. But we've been together for ten years! You can't just casually toss that aside. We mean too much to each other, we're too intertwined."

Rachel doesn't say anything. Quinn takes this as agreement.

"So we get back together. And we can work out the logistics of our relationship now that you're married."

"No."

"What? Why not?" Quinn asks.

"Because this is exactly what _you_ wanted," Rachel points out. "And exactly what _I_didn't. If I didn't know better, I'd say you planned this."

"Come on, Rachel."

"Except I know your scheming skills are subpar at best."

"Thanks?"

"Either way, _I'm_ going to bed and _you're_leaving." With that Rachel stalks out of the kitchen, leaving Quinn staring after her.

The blonde doesn't know what else she can do. Even though she knows she should leave immediately, she just wants to sit and wallow for a bit.

About five minutes later, Noah enters the kitchen.

"Rejected?" he asks as he goes to the fridge.

"Yes."

"Don't let it set you back," he tells her. "You know Rachel. She hates to be wrong, especially if she's hurt. Which she definitely is. Give her some time."

"I can do that."

"Here," Noah says, digging in his pocket. "I had this made for you." He hands her a brass key. "If you're around enough, you'll wear her down."

"Thanks." Quinn is surprised.

"Don't look at me like that," he replies. "I know how good you two are together. I also know how much she loves you. And being how she's been my best friend since puberty, I also know that if she would just forgive you, things will be okay. She's just being stubborn."

"All right. I can do that."

"Good," he says, leaning against the counter. "I guess I'll see you back here tomorrow night? Let yourself in. Help yourself to the fridge. This is your place too."

Quinn is oddly touched. "Thanks, Puckerman."

"No worries, Fabray. Just keep her happy."

The blonde nods and Noah walks her to the door. He watches her get into the elevator, gives a smirk and a wave before going back inside to find Finn.

**…**

So the next evening, Quinn is at the apartment waiting for Rachel. This time she brings her sketch book to keep herself occupied. As if she knows that Quinn's waiting for her, Rachel avoids the kitchen completely. Hearing this, Quinn stands and follows the brunette.

"Rach," the blonde calls. "Rach, come on. We need to talk."

"No, we don't," Rachel replies. "Just because Noah gave you free reign over this apartment, doesn't mean I have to agree."

"How'd you know that?"

Rachel scoffs. "Like Noah probably said, we've been best friends for a long time. Just as he knows me, I know him. And he thinks prolonged exposure will usually change my mind."

"And will it?"

"No."

"We'll see," Quinn says as Rachel stomps away.

The blonde returns to the kitchen, finishes her drink and leaves the sketch she was working on for Rachel before exiting the apartment.

**…**

The next night Rachel just out right ignores her. Quinn follows her again, but doesn't say anything more than hello.

This continues for several more days. Rachel is extremely obstinate. However, Quinn is just as tenacious. She supposes that's why they've been together for so long despite the epic underlying disagreement.

At the end of a week, the blonde feels like she's making progress. Rachel is still ignoring her, but Quinn knows her. She's definitely wearing the brunette down.

Plus, she's getting to know Puckerman and Hudson a bit. They're not bad guys and they do really care about Rachel. Quinn's not sure why she ever really had issues with them. On principle, she supposes. She's glad, though. Since apparently, she's going to be seeing a lot of them in the future.

**…**

Rachel finally gives in on the twelfth day. Thankfully, because Quinn was beginning to doubt this particular approach. Especially since on the eleventh night, Rachel slams the front door shut, stomps around the apartment making as much noise as possible as doors bang shut. The other three are worried the neighbors are going to start making complaints.

But on the twelfth night, Rachel comes in and sits at the table across from Quinn. She looks up, but Rachel just shakes her head slightly, so the blonde returns to her sketching. After a moment, Rachel stands and comes back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She sits, fills both glasses and slides one towards Quinn.

And then she says nothing. She just sips her wine and watches Quinn draw.

The blonde tries to ignore it and she succeeds for about five minutes. But it quickly becomes unnerving. And she desperately wants to look up and ask what, but is too worried that any sort of reaction will scare Rachel off. It's as if Quinn is dealing with a deer in the woods or something.

"Fine," Rachel says after an infinite moment. "You win."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, you win. We're back together and everything's the same as before, except Noah and I are married."

"Don't sound too excited."

"I miss you, baby, I do," Rachel tells her. "But I feel like I'm in between a rock and a hard place. Everyone else gets what they want, except for me."

"Rachel, that's not true."

"It is. But I'll be okay with it, eventually. I just…I want everything too much. Apparently, I'm greedy."

"You're not," Quinn assures her. "You're just…you believe in honesty and being true to yourself. The rest of us only wish we had that sort of confidence."

Rachel smiles.

"I know you're not completely happy with how things worked out," Quinn continues. "But if you just promise me that you'll try, I will as well. We'll take one day at a time and eventually, it'll be okay."

The brunette nods. Quinn smiles as she closes her sketchbook.

"I missed you," Rachel says, standing. She pulls Quinn up as well and leans in for a soft kiss. "You think anyone will notice if you spend the night?" she asks when they break apart.

"Who cares if they do?"

Rachel nods and the two of them disappear into the bedroom.

**…**

The next morning at breakfast with the four of them at the table, when Noah tells Rachel he told her so, the brunette throws bits of fruit at him until he cries mercy. Their partners smile and laugh indulgently and it feels almost perfect.


End file.
